


the quiet things (you think I don't know)

by arrow_through_my_writers_block



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Neighbors, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5598598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrow_through_my_writers_block/pseuds/arrow_through_my_writers_block
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak have been "sexual companions" for a while... and it is becoming a little difficult not to admit their feelings for one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the quiet things (you think I don't know)

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this little AU on my tumblr a while back... so I figured I should post it here! Enjoy!

They are in the kitchen, skin glistening with sweat and their cheeks warm. Three rounds. Three heart-pounding, no nonsense, frantically pleasurable rounds. They have many more to go. Many more positions and many more sturdy surfaces to christen. Their sexual marathon has only just begun.

Oliver watches her as she climbs onto one of the stools and then pops a grape into her mouth. Her hair is matted and tangled, golden curls sticking out at odd angles and cascading around her bare neck and shoulders. Her breasts are exposed. Gloriously exposed. Round and just the perfect size to fit into his hands. He bites back the desire to take advantage of the exposure.

They need to hydrate. They need to eat.

Her hips are hidden beneath his forest green bed sheet, draped luxuriously around her like a grecian goddess. It's no wonder they have been hooking up over the last few months. It's no wonder he enjoys it so much.

Tommy finds it hilarious. "You have a fuck buddy, man," he jokes constantly. "A preferred fuck buddy."

"Sexual  _ companion _ ..." Oliver always retorts, using her little title. He likes the title - it feels less coarse and vulgar.

"Fuck buddy... The term is fuck buddy."

He watches her now, waiting for the coffee to brew. She downs a bottle of water in record time, a small trickle slipping past her lips and down her chin, dripping onto her chest. He watches the droplet slide down her breast to settle at her nipple. She wipes it away with a thumb before grabbing another grape.

"Where next?" she asks.

He grins. "Not sure."

"Maybe here?" She pats the counter with her palm. "Might be a little cold, but I'm up for it if you are."

Her enthusiasm delights him. At first he had been surprised by it. Her desire had been so different from that of other women he knew. Then he learned to welcome it.

"Bathtub?" he asks, opening the fridge. The cool air hits his warm skin, sending his body into shivers of content. She had requested the rooms be left warm. She always requests the rooms to be warm when they're together.

She scrunches her nose. "Too romantic," she says, nibbling on another grape. "Don't you think?"

He shrugs, heart beginning to pound as he retrieves the coffee creamer from the fridge. He can't give her an answer. He's afraid to. Afraid to admit that he's okay with the idea of romance - perfectly okay with the idea of romance with her.

The coffee pot fills and the machine beeps. He grabs two mugs and pours steaming liquid into each one. Then he pours the sugar and creamer into her mug, and just a little sugar into his own, swirling the contents of each with a spoon and leaving it in hers.

He turns to find her brows raised, cheeks finally losing the flush he had helped create. He slides the mug to her and leans against the counter, eyes never leaving her face as she studies the coffee within. "You know how I like my coffee?" she asks, voice thick with the kinds of emotions she so often hides away from him.

He nods. "I know a lot of things about you."

Her eyes beg him to continue, to elaborate. He takes a sip of his coffee, ignoring how it scalds his tongue. Her eyes never leave him, and his never leave her.

"Like what?" she asks, hands wrapped around her mug insecurely.

He set his mug down and sighs. "I don't know... lots of things. Insignificant things."

She refuses to cease her begging expression.

He rolls his eyes playfully and shrugs. "I know you enjoy waking up early so you can relax before work." He takes a step around the counter to come up beside her, then leans against the cold countertop again. "I know you're always trying avoid the old lady who lives near the elevator. I know you have a cat named Cat... like the woman in Breakfast At Tiffany's."

The flush that had begun to disappear moments ago returns. Oliver smiles and traces his fingers along the shape of her cheek, feeling the warmth that his words create.

"I know that you take long, luxurious bubble baths..."

He lets his fingers trail down her cheek, past her jaw and along her neck, feeling her pulse quicken.

"I know," he continues, leaning down to let his lips brush against her ear, right along her industrial piercing. "I know that no matter how hard you pretend, you actually feel something for me as I do for you."

She's biting her lip. She's gripping the sheets pooled in her lap. She's taking in his words and sifting through them, examining and enjoying them. Then she turns her head and looks him in the eye. "How do you know any of that?" she asks.

He kisses her earlobe with a grin. "I'm observant." He wraps his arms around her around her, loving the feeling of her skin pressed against his once more. "You come over here, more often than not, with the scent of lavender bubble bath on your skin and the taste of wine of your lips."

He kisses her neck, nipping lightly.

"You never want to stay here late during the week."

He smooths a hand over the warm skin of her stomach, trailing down and into the folds of the sheet.

"You watch me when you think I'm not looking."

His hand stops between her legs, pressed against her fiery core, his fingers feeling her longing. Her impatience.

"I know things about you, too," she proffers, legs widening to accommodate his hand.

"Is that so?"

She nods, head falling back against his chest as his hand begins to massaging her, bringing all of her desire to her center.

"I know that you've been interested in me for months." He sends one finger probing against her sensitive nub and she bites back a moan. "I - I know you've enjoyed our hook ups more than you've let on."

He nips at her neck again, snaking a tongue out to press against her pulse.

"I know that you're richer than you want people to believe," she gasps out as his fingers work their magic and his tongue sends tremors through her body. "I know that you've loved me almost as long as I've loved you."

The words hinder his hand and stop his lips. The words trickle through his body straight to his heart. He leans around her, fighting for a closer look at her face.

She's turned on. She's blushing. She's, without a doubt, gazing up at him with eyes brimming with desire and affection, all melded into one. He kisses her, lips tender against hers. He kisses her not with the haste he always has, but with a new sensation - a new emotion. He kisses her with the love he's fought to keep reined in for months. He kisses her with everything he has, forsaking all of his fears.

Then she's turning on the stool and spreading her legs, one hand draped lightly on his chest, right above his heart. She untangles the sheet and wraps it around them both, tugging him closer until their centers are pressed together and begging for connection. He eases her to the edge of the stool and thrusts forward, welcoming her soft warmth.

It isn't how he expected them to open up. It isn't how he expected to make love to Felicity for the first time, but he's waited long enough and he refuses to question it.

This is more than sex. This is more than another location to check off their marathon list. This is so much more.

Within minutes they are panting and gasping and crying out, her nails digging into his back and his grip on her hips are like a vice. Their foreheads press together and their eyes lock. With each thrust and each frantic breath, they grow closer, away from their regularly scheduled nights in and into something more.

They reach their peak together, crashing into themselves and grasping each other's skin with pleasurable abandon until they cry out.

They remain connected for what seems an eternity, lips brushing against lips and hearts pounding in time with their breathing. Then Felicity lets out a giggle. A giggle he's never heard before.

"What?" he mumbles into her curls.

"Perhaps a bath would be nice..."


End file.
